


Touch

by writeturnlove



Category: Chris Evans - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Real Person Fiction
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 02:00:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20922308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeturnlove/pseuds/writeturnlove
Summary: SUMMARY: Chris Evans is one of your closest friends. Sure, he’s gorgeous, but you try to ignore that as much as possible because he’s a major flirt...except when it comes to you. He treats you just like one of the guys and you’ve long-since decided that he doesn’t even realize you are a woman. With your deep brown skin, full figure, and big onyx eyes, you certainly don’t look like “his type.” You plan on spending a Saturday night alone when you have a plumbing problem. You call your friend Chris to vent your frustrations. He decides to come over. You want to talk. Chris has other ideas.





	Touch

Touch (Chris Evans x Black Plus Size Reader)  
By V.C. Turner

SUMMARY: Chris Evans is one of your closest friends. Sure, he’s gorgeous, but you try to ignore that as much as possible because he’s a major flirt...except when it comes to you. He treats you just like one of the guys and you’ve long-since decided that he doesn’t even realize you are a woman. With your deep brown skin, full figure, and big onyx eyes, you certainly don’t look like “his type.” You plan on spending a Saturday night alone when you have a plumbing problem. You call your friend Chris to vent your frustrations. He decides to come over. You want to talk. Chris has other ideas. 

“Ouch!” Chris playfully yelped as you pulled the first of several splinters out of his face.  
“This is what happens when you don’t listen to me,” you chastised him holding a pair of tweezers in your right hand.  
“Let’s just get this over with, Dr. Y/N,” he grumbled at your “I told you so” comment.  
You stood in your tiptoes, but for the life of you, you could barely reach his face as you attempted to conduct the minor surgical procedure under the kitchen light. It frustrates you, being your height and always having to stand on a ladder or stool to get something. At that moment, your calves began to hurt from trying to reach up to Chris and remove the wooden splinters he’d received while crawling under your sink to “fix” it.  
“I can’t do this,” you noted, “Either you’re gonna have to sit down or I need to stand on a chair or something.  
Chris displays an annoyingly sweet smirk and drags a wooden chair in front of you.  
“Here you go, Shawty!” he said.  
“I suppose you mean ‘shorty’, smartass,” you said. You then used the chair to climb onto the kitchen island. The maneuver brought you close to eye level of your longtime friend.  
“You’re cute. Now get these things out of me,” Chris ordered.  
You crossed your arms.  
“Can I get a ‘Please’?” you asked.  
He gave you a disarming smirk.  
“Well sure, pretty lady. Just tell me how you want me to please you,” he teased.  
“Boy, stop playing!” you laughed as you swatted at him.  
Chris stepped in between your legs and leaned forward. You were able to remove three more splinters from his forehead before he spoke again.  
“I’m sorry,” he said softly.  
You showed your confusion with a frown.  
“For what?” you asked as you placed your left hand on his cheek and held his face still while you removed small pieces of wood from his perfect skin.  
“I’m not a plumber and I should have waited for the building manager to come up before I tried to go under your sink,” he said earnestly.  
You eek out a small chuckle.  
“Just listen to me from now on and you won’t get hurt,” you retorted with a wink and continued your work.  
“Yes ma’am,” he said, showing his best heart-stopping smile. It only had a minor impact on you.  
“Lean forward so I can get the last two near your left eyebrow,” you added.  
Chris stepped closer to you, his black jeans rubbing against the inside of your thighs. The sensation tickled since the thick fabric of his pants rubbed against the bare skin of your legs. You were wearing a pair of short shorts paired with a tank top and an off the shoulder top.  
Three years ago, you stopped dressing in sexy jeans or dresses in the hopes that he would notice you one day. It never worked. Two years ago, you stopped worrying about how your hair looked or if you wore makeup. He never paid attention to that anyway. A few months ago, when he stopped dating his girlfriend of the moment, you closed that little door of hope that stubbornly remained open - waiting for him to walk through it.  
He never did.  
So sitting on your kitchen island in your dress-down clothes after a night of self-pampering didn’t worry you one bit because the man standing in front of you would always be out of reach….physically and romantically.  
You did your best to ignore the fact that it was as close as you would ever get to having him between your legs. For years, you watched movies where sexy, skinny couples made out on kitchen countertops before retiring to the bedroom. You inwardly chuckled at the irony that you sat in front of a hot, charming, unnecessarily sweet man who only thought of you as “one of the guys.” No passionate makeout sessions on countertops for you.  
You became lost in your own thoughts as you continued removing splinters. Then he leaned on the counter, resting his hands on each side of your hips. The cold marble suddenly felt warm.  
Asshole.  
Chris then decided to torture you even more when his thumbs began to trace circles on the bare skin of your thighs.  
“Thank you, Y/N,” he said, his voice slightly above a whisper.  
You swallowed hard and nodded, your words lost in the fog of your brain. There was no point wanting Chris Evans. You needed to just enjoy your friendship and that’s all. His long-lasting hugs, kisses on the temple, and back rubs meant nothing.  
“You’re welcome,” you told him, not looking in his eyes as you removed the last splinter. You pulled backward, placing the tweezers on the kitchen island behind you.  
“All done?” Chris asked with raised eyebrows.  
“Good as new,” you answered.  
You scooted forward to hop off the counter, but Chris didn’t move like you’d expected. Instead, his hands slid up your thighs, and made their way to your waist.  
His cologne wafted over you as he leaned closer. He briefly placed his forehead against yours and exhaled slowly. He then nuzzled your cheek before moving to your neck and inhaling your freshly washed and moisturized skin.  
You stopped breathing for a moment, in complete disbelief that his toned chest pressed against your breasts while he inhaled the perfume scenting your pulse point. His fingers slid beneath the fabric of your tank top. They caressed your skin in lazy strokes.  
“Chris,” the sound of his name came out like a moan when you wanted it to sound like a question.  
He answered nonetheless.  
“Yeah?” he said into your neck.  
“What are you doing?” you asked. You wanted to push him away; the sensation of his touch giving you thoughts you should not possess.  
“You smell so sweet, y/n,” he whispered, “Like cookies … or hot chocolate.”  
His beard brushed against your neck and collarbone and you shook.  
“It’s … um...cocoa butter lotion,” you explained. Damn it. He still had an effect on you.  
“I like it,” he added.  
He held you there for a moment, his arms eventually wrapping around your waist in a familiar hug that engulfed you. He gave you his usual squeeze before his arms fell away from your waist. You expected him to step away from the counter so you could get down.  
He didn’t.  
While a part of you felt aroused, another part of you felt angry that he’d tease you this way. Clearly he knew you were attracted to him. Hell: who wasn’t attracted to him? Playing with your emotions however: not fair.  
You tried to scoot forward. Chris barely moved. Instead, he looked in your eyes and remained silent. You’d never seen him like that before. He seemed to be considering something. Nevertheless, you didn’t want to start pining for him again, so leaving the room was the best option.  
“I need to get down,” you finally told him, your tone firm but not angry - although the frustration began to rise within you.  
Sure, you could have pushed him aside, brushed past him while you hopped off the counter, but you preferred not to touch him. You were starting to feel too much and the imbalance in attraction between the two of you meant you would ultimately be the one to get hurt.  
Chris only took one step back. If you wanted to get down, you’d have to touch him, possibly push him aside. So that’s what you did. You used your right forearm to push him back so you could hop down. You walked toward the living room, heading for the sofa...anything to escape his orbit.  
“You know, I hate to see you go, but I gotta admit, I like the view as you walk away,” Chris flirted, his voice sounding one octave lower than normal.  
You stood still for a moment. He’d never said anything like that to you before. Never. Hearing it at that moment felt unreal. You started to shake. For what reason, you didn’t know. You let out a long silent breath before turning to face him.  
His eyes scanned you from your head to your toes and back up again. He rubbed his chin when his gaze stopped at your face.  
“What are you doing?” you asked.  
He frowned.  
“What do you mean?” Chris said, pretending to be innocent.  
You motioned toward the kitchen island.  
“That...that whole sniffing my neck and telling me how sweet I smell and ...and touching my back … then the reference to - I’m guessing my ass. What’s wrong with you?” you probed further.  
His full lips pressed together for a moment. You could hear his intake of breath before he spoke.  
“You’re telling me you can’t tell when a man is flirting with you?” he asked.  
You crossed your arms in front of you, but you were basically trying to hold yourself together.  
“I know when a man flirts with me,” you admitted, “And you’ve never flirted with me.”  
Chris stepped closer to you, his lips parting. You noticed how full his lips were and even in your anger, you still wanted to know what they felt like against your mouth...against anywhere on your skin.  
He noticed that your gaze landed on his mouth because he smirked a little.  
“I flirt with you all the time,” he retorted, mirroring your defiant stance.  
You offered a wry chuckle at the falseness of that statement.  
“EXCUSE ME?!!!,” you scoffed, “You NEVER flirt with me. You never touch me like that!”  
“I always flirt with you and I’m always touching you,” he argued. The frustration in his voice evident, but his movements toward you were slow. He then stood in front of you ... so close that you had to back up; only the sofa was behind you and you would need to push past him again.  
You looked up at him, your anger diminishing as he scanned your features and reached up to run his fingers through your black hair. You watched his movement, your body warming more than you wanted it to.  
“No you don’t flirt with me. You play with me like a buddy. I’m one of the guys. I’m not a real woman to you,” you told him, “I’ve seen you flirt with women, Chris. I notice the difference in your tone. When you flirt with them, I can tell you mean it. I also know that right now you’re either humoring me, the thick black girl ... or you’re joking with me. Just don’t do it, ok. Don’t pretend to want me.”  
You tried to step around him, but he moved to block your path. He knew you didn’t want to have this conversation, but he seemed determined to have you confess your feelings just so he could turn you down.  
“If you want to walk away from me, fine. I’m not going to stop you. But,” Chris stroked your left cheek, “You need to hear something before you leave.”  
“Hear what?” your resolve breaking.  
Chris smiled as he ran his fingers along your arm and led you toward the sofa where he eventually sat you on his lap. You felt his right hand run up and down your legs as his left hand explored your lower back. You reluctantly eased into his touch.  
It felt sensual, slightly forbidden, and frustratingly addictive.  
“When I hug you and give you that extra squeeze, that means I don’t want to let you go,” he said as he wrapped his arms around your waist.  
“When I run my hands along your back,” he continued, his hand snaking its way beneath your shirt and stroking your heated skin, “That means I want to keep touching you as long as you let me.”  
You couldn’t help but release a moan as his lips soon attached themselves to your jawline when he placed small, wet kisses there. Your core flooded with heat. You closed your eyes. The walls around your heart began to disintegrate.  
“Why do you think none of my relationships work out?” Chris asked as he pressed a gentle kiss just below your ear.  
You found it difficult to concentrate.  
“Because you you get bored easily,” you reasoned.  
He pulled you to his chest.  
“No. They don’t last because,” he said as he nibbled your right earlobe, “ … They’re not you.”  
You shook your head. He didn’t mean it. He couldn’t mean it. He’d never been this way with you before.  
Chris gently turned your face toward him, and your noses nearly touched. You closed your eyes.  
“The truth is that every little kiss I place on your cheek, or on your forehead is just because I want my lips on you,” he continued.  
His words took your breath away even if you had trouble believing them.  
“What do you want from me now?” you asked.  
“I want you to come here,” he cooed.  
“I’m already in your lap, Chris,” you told him.  
He bit his bottom lip and then lifted your chin.  
“Yeah, but that pretty mouth of yours is still too far away - So come here,” he whispered as he melded your mouth with his.  
His lips captured yours, a soft, wet kiss that seemed to last forever as he held you against his chest. You felt his heart race as the kiss deepened. You lost yourself in the feel of his lips exploring yours, his tongue slowly gliding in your mouth and swirling in time with your own.  
You felt his hand cradle the base of your neck, and you found your hand grasping his shirt while tugging him to you. After several minutes, you had to pull away because you were running out of air.  
Chris gasped as you distanced yourself so you could breathe. Euphoria and caution was all you could feel at that moment. His fingers traced over each lip right before he leaned forward and kissed you again. A soft groan escaped your throat as you kissed him back. His lips found their way to your neck again as he placed small love bites there while speaking.  
“I love the way you feel,” he said, his hands roaming over every inch of exposed skin he could touch.  
Chris slid you off his lap and onto the sofa, where he laid down next to you, looking in your eyes as he lightly caressed your left cheek.  
“Then touch me, Chris,” you whispered.  
He gave you a bashful smile.  
“Where?” he asked.  
“I don’t care. I just want your mouth...and your hands on me,” you explained.  
He continued kissing your neck as his fingers skimmed the skin beneath the hem of your shorts.  
“Do you know what I can do with just my mouth and hands?”  
You gave him a naughty smile of your own.  
“How about you show me?”


End file.
